Miku was sitting patiently by my side as I finished my dinner. It was a little off-putting - I had almost made extra for her before she'd carefully reminded me that she didn't - that she couldn't - eat food. I finished my last mouthful and downed it with a swig of water.

Okay, okay, she wasn't sitting idle. She was playing a soft, freeform melody on the ocarina. It was like she had played the instrument all her life. Miku's eyes were closed as she used the ocarina to express herself, her fingers moving across the surface of the cobalt egg seemingly of their own accord.

The ocarina itself made a harmonious yet hollow, almost melancholic noise when used; and Miku was directing this into a song. The song was slow and peaceful, with an element of melancholy given to it by the nature of the instrument. However, every now and then, a little ray of hope shone through in the form of a slightly higher pitch or slightly quicker progression of the notes.

Miku opened one of her eyes, smiling at me slightly as she reached the crescendo of her little solo performance. After one last drawn-out note faded into breathlessness, Miku gently pulled away the azure instrument. "Well? How did I do?"

I took a moment to consider my answer. "I liked it. You play well, Miku."

Miku nodded in appreciation. She was clearly proud of what she'd done. "Anything else you'd like to add?" Frowning, I shifted in my seat. What on Earth was that supposed to mean? Unusually, Miku picked up on my confusion. It was not often that she was that perceptive. "Like, what feelings did I get across?"

How to put it into words? I pondered it for a few seconds before decided on my answer. "The song was very pensive; it had a definite downcast element to it. Now and then, though, you added a different note to the usual shade of grey, almost like a little bit of hope amidst the desperate sadness."

Miku smiled at me, holding her ocarina close to her heart. "That's what I was aiming for. It's nice to know I can get these emotions across."

Wait, what? Was the song meant to connote with how she was feeling inside? If so… damn, she was really torn up internally. "What does that mean?"

She looked away. "N-Nothing."

Shrugging, I stood, moving my empty plate to the sink. I hear Miku rise too. After I placed the plate in the sink, I paused briefly before wheeling around to face her again. There was a sort of vagueness about Miku's blank expression, like she wasn't really there. "Miku?"

Her gaze was briefly brought up from the floor. "Huh?"

I pointed at the ocarina. "That instrument requires you to breathe into it. Do you breathe?"

Miku cocked her head, thinking about her answer. "Not really. I don't have ambient breathing like a person would. What I actually do is I expand my chest cavity, then shrink it again." Oh. That made sense, actually. It was pretty much the same way humans did it. Miku looked up at me, a pained look on her face. "It hurts, though. It hurts a lot. It's worth it in the end, though. Playing that song hurt me alot, but I feel better for playing it."

Really? She had played through the pain just for me? Remarkable. To consider that Miku had risked her health to simply play me a song was incredible. It was a little flattering, actually. Hell, it was more than a little. Stepping forward, I surprised her by embracing her.

Looking up at me curiously, Miku considered the meaning of my action. "Is something wrong?"

I shook my head, holding her tightly. It was pride that I felt. I was proud of her. "No. Everything is fine."

Miku didn't move. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." I didn't really know what was making me hug her - I simply couldn't put a name to it. It was a mixture of pride, respect, joy and affection. I planted a kiss on her forehead and let her go, stepping back slightly.

Miku still didn't move, just staring at me. Abruptly, she shrugged and turned to leave. "That was weird." However, she stopped just shy of the door. "John, there's been something I've been meaning to ask you."

That didn't sound good. Whenever she said my actual name, the subject was always serious. It reminded me somewhat of my mother - truly, the name Johnathan Moody was the bane of my childhood, especially when screamed. "Ask away."

"Your father..." Miku began, hesitating slightly. That really didn't sound good. My eyes narrowed as I considered the possible routes this conversation could take. I could tell from her hesitation that she knew this was a tetchy subject. "What was he like?"

It was a perfectly legitimate question. That didn't stop it from silencing me for a good few moments. I gestured towards the door, towards the living room. "Let's sit." Still cradling her ocarina, Miku sat down with me on the couch, waiting patiently for an answer. Her sapphire eyes observed me carefully as I folded my arms and considered my answer. "What was my dad like?"

Miku shifted slightly, crossing her legs. "You don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable."

I shook my head. "No, no, it's fine. My dad was..." I paused, imagining him, seeing him with my mind's eye. "Christ, it's only been two years, but it feels like it's been so long since I talked to him."

Miku moved a little closer, putting a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, John. You don't have to answer."

"No, I -" I started sharply before halting myself. I took a deep breath, steadying myself. When I spoke again, I used a much softer tone. "I need to answer, I just don't know how."

Miku sighed. "Let me help you. You know, everybody needs to move on some time. Your father didn't die four days ago - he died two years ago, when he first entered that coma. I mean this figuratively, but... You know. You just need to let it go." That was a surprisingly apt statement. I suppose she was right, really. My father hadn't really been alive; he'd been stuck in the middle, trapped on the border between life and death. If anything, death was a mercy.

I paused, staring silently into space. "It's my fault in the first place."

"What is?"

Sighing, I lay my head in my hands. It was true, it was all my fault. "It's my fault he's dead."

Miku made a bemused noise. "How so?"

I leaned back again, resting my hands on my legs as I slumped down. Great, now I was remembering the crash. It was a painful memory. "I was talking to my dad in the car. He was looking at me instead of the road. Somebody pulled out in front of us. You can guess the rest."

It took Miku a moment to reply. "No."

No? What did she mean by that? Did it mean she couldn't guess the rest, or something else entirely? "Eh?"

"It wasn't your fault!" Miku responded, shaking me. "It was the guy who pulled out!"

I grunted. Her opinion changed nothing. "Try telling that to my mother."

Miku tilted her head quizzically. "Your mother?"

I nodded. "That's what I said. She thinks it's my fault too."

Miku frowned in upon learning this. Something told me that she had taken an immediate disliking to my mother. "But... it's not your fault!" Shrugging idly was the only reply I could think of. There was a deafening lull in the conversation. "You didn't answer the question."

I scratched my head - what had she asked, again? "What question?"

Sighing in exasperation, Miku leaned back. "What was your father like?"

Oh, right. What was he like? "General sort of fatherly type, you know?"

Miku stared at me blankly, like I'd said something incomprehensible. She looked away for a moment. "He was like you, then?"

What? Like me? No, he was... He wasn't like me. More open, jolly and jovial at the worst of times. "What makes you say that?"

Again with the void stare. "You're forgetting that I don't really have parents - the closest thing to a father I've ever had is you."

That statement left me reeling internally. Miku considered me to be her practical father, though how literally she meant that was up for question. "Well, um," I started, trying desperately to get the conversation back on course. "No. Dad wasn't like me at all - he was jolly almost constantly. A room he entered always seemed a little brighter by his mere presence, like he just exuded an atmosphere of mirth. He was a great public speaker, unbelievably excellent at what he did. He loved meeting new people, too."

"He sounds like he was a really ni -" Miku stopped abruptly mid-sentence. "John, are you crying?"

"No." I said flatly, turning away and wiping my eyes. It wasn't entirely a lie; I wasn't crying, I was almost crying. "Guys... Guys don't cry." Miku was silent for a moment, then I heard her trying to keep in a laugh. "What's so funny?"

Miku couldn't hold it in. She let out a few sharp laughs before gaining control of herself. "They do cry, especially when you kick them in the balls!"

I have to admit, that made me chuckle. "How do even know that?"

"Do you remember when we first met?" Miku asked, patting her right leg for some reason.

"Oh, wow." I replied, breaking through the hazy fog that was the memory of that night. "Yeah, you gave that guy a good kicking in the nads, didn't you?"

She nodded vigorously, proud of her achievement. "What do we say to potential rapists? Not today! Then you kick them in the balls."

I stopped laughing all of a sudden. "Did you just say 'potential rapists'?"

Miku stopped laughing as well. "Well, yeah, they... Wow, I really dodged a bullet on that one."

And I thought they were just being generally antisocial. To consider that they had been moments away from sexually abusing her, and that I was the only reason she had retained her innocence... It was a hefty thing. "I stopped you from being raped?"

After a brief moment of retrospect, Miku nodded. "Looks like it." Silence fell into the room, in which Miku stared fixedly at me, obviously thinking about one thing or another. "What is it like?"

Oh, God, not these questions again. They were weird enough the first time. With a sigh, I decided that I may as well answer her questions. "What's what like?" Woah, deja vu.

A flash of crimson on her cheeks, Miku looked away. "You know."

I know what? "No, I don't."

She glanced at me again, an almost pleading look on her face, like was silently begging me to not be so blind. "What subject were we just on?"

"Well, we were just talking about how -" Oh. Ooooohhh. No wonder she looked embarrassed. "Really? You want to know about that?"

Almost reluctantly, Miku nodded. "That's what I asked."

I shrugged. "I don't know. I've never done it before."

To my genuine and slightly pleasant surprise, Miku looked shocked. "Really? You haven't?"

It was true. I'd never actually done it. There was no point in describing something that I'd never done before. "Really. I haven't."

Miku shifted uncomfortably. "Fat lot of use you are."

I slowly turned toward her. Was she truly, actually insinuating that? "Are you criticising me for not being a slut?"

She shrugged in short reply. "I suppose I am. I mean, come on, you're 21, live a little."

"No." I responded bluntly. There was another deafening lull in the conversation. "Screw it," I decided. "I'm going to have a shower."

With that, I left Miku to mull over how I'd prevented her rape. Honestly, it wasn't the best note to leave on, but I needed a break, you know? I did need a shower, though - I needed to be clean for tomorrow's funeral. I also felt like I needed to be cleaned of Miku's awkward questions.

As soon as I was out of the room, I found myself forgetting about that entirely. I discovered that the tears were on the cusp of returning again as I resumed thinking about my dad. "Pull yourself together, man." I hissed, taking a deep breath. "You can cry all you want tomorrow... just not right now."